


diametrically opposed (but not quite so)

by Eissel



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bonding, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family Bonding, Family Dynamics, Gen, Historical References, I dunk on the Xingese Emperor a bit, If you know your Chinese History you can probably beat for beat predict how I view Xing, I’m sorry but Battle Royale should have never been the basis for a system of inheritance, Ling and Lan Fan are good for the soul, May’s also very good for the soul too, Minor Original Character(s), Pre-Canon, Prompt Fill, Whump, Xingese politics, parental neglect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:47:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23933311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eissel/pseuds/Eissel
Summary: Ling had been born into a family of liars, it was the only way to survive the viper-pit that was Xingese politics, and he accepted lying as just another way of life.A study of Ling as he grows into the Emperor he always wanted to be.
Relationships: Fu & Lan Fan & Ling Yao, Fu & Ling Yao, Greed & Lan Fan & Ling Yao, Greed (Ling) & Ling Yao, Lan Fan & Ling Yao, Lan Fan/Ling Yao, Mei Chan | May Chang & Ling Yao
Comments: 4
Kudos: 48
Collections: Truth or...?





	diametrically opposed (but not quite so)

**Author's Note:**

> Me: Hey I wonder how the Greedling dynamic would have worked if Ling was a habitual liar compared to Greed’s “I don’t tell lies” shtick?  
> Also Me: That sounds awful. Time to start writing!  
> ~5 minutes later~  
> Me: Hey, I need a playlist to listen to as I write, what should be in here.   
> ~One Glance at the prompt later~  
> Me: Ah, Honesty by Gyze. Perfect :>  
> Also this is like my third time trying to write this fic. Once more into the breech it is! Also also, this was basically written during my hype period for CKIII, so uh, that’s why Xing is depicted Like That.

“You will be the next emperor my child.” Those are the first words he remembers his mother ever saying to him; and, like the child he was, he had nodded along emphatically. 

“I’ll be the best emperor!” Her tender hands had stoked his short black hair, hiding the tremble in the action. 

“I’m sure you will be bǎobèi. Make your clan proud.” She had hugged him then, and Ling remembered how she had smelled of plum blossoms freshly bloomed, but also how she had broken it off just as quickly. “Bring us honor Ling, that is your duty, to your honored mother and your honored clan.” Her hands took his, and her deep brown eyes peered into his. “To that end my dear child… You must learn to lie. For that is our way.” 

He hadn’t talked back, hadn’t asked why, because Ling was a filial child, even back then, and so he grew up to inherit the Yao clan’s preferred method of maneuvering Xingese politics: lying. 

While other clans relied on their military prowess, scholarly achievements or talent with alkahestry, the Yao clan had always relied on underhanded tricks and dirty play to stay ahead of their competition. There simply wasn’t any other way for a small, northern merchant clan to get and maintain recognition in the capital other than bribery, and if there was anything the Yaos despised, it was actually having to  _ use  _ any portion of the massive wealth they had accrued.

In preparation for his debut in Longjing, the Imperial Capital, Ling had been armed with every sort of deceit and trick his family knew, from equivocations to cover-ups to mere white lies meant to flatter the puffed up Princes and Princesses sure to attend the ceremony to evaluate him as a threat to their bids to the throne so that they’d see him as nothing more than a stepping stone. Not a salient threat, just someone who they could use.

And then Ling would stab them in the back. 

The morning of the day he is due to travel to Longjing, the elders visit the compound he and his mother reside in, and gift him a shirt and pants made of silk. They’re the best quality clothes he’s seen in his life. As he finishes dressing himself, his mother hugs him, and slips a bottle of what must be poison into the folds of the shirt. 

“Don’t disappoint us Ling.” By now he’s long since given up on hoping for a word of actual encouragement from her. All she cared about was the prosperity of the clan, and by extension that was all Ling cared about too.

“Yes mother.” He drones. “I won’t tarnish our family name.” She pats him on the head at the rote answer, and Ling hides his own disdainful expression as she turns him around to evaluate him one last time. 

“You’ll do well.” She finally says, slipping a thin gold necklace with a jade dragon around his neck; the symbol of the Imperial Family, and only the Emperor and his heirs are allowed to wear it. Ling, conceived when he was, would be the 12th boy at the gathering to wear that pendant this generation. Tucking it below the collar of the shirt, Ling makes to break away from his mother’s grip when she pulls him back. “Goodbye bǎobèi.” She whispered. “I’m sorry for all you had to endure here.” 

He didn’t bother to dignify that with a response, and walked out. She, like the rest of his family were well versed in lying. She didn’t mean what she said. 

“Young Lord.” Elder Weizhe greeted as he walked out of his room. “Are you ready to begin the journey? Have you said all your farewells to your honored mother?”

“I did Elder.” Ling said, wishing he could just be rid of this house and all its associated memories. He wouldn’t see his mother again until he was 25  _ at best _ , so what was the point of all the lingering around? In their own words, they wanted him to take the throne as soon as possible to maintain their clan’s prosperity, so all this was just a waste of time.

“Good. We will meet you in the carriage, and then we will begin our journey to Longjing. Elder Lì will test you on your knowledge of the capital on our travels.” He paused. “And after your debut, we will complete the Èchéng Circuit, and you will be placed in your new residence. Do you understand?”

“Yes Elder. I do.” Ling said blandly. There wasn’t any use in kicking up a fuss anyways. 

* * *

The banquet was loud, bright, and the people were annoying. Yet, this was still the best Ling had felt since… well,  _ ever.  _ He enjoyed the food immensely, and even managed to keep out of the spot light for the most part besides the first 30 minutes or so where he had been showered with gifts and attention before quietly fading into the spotlight.

From his vantage spot in the rafters, he watches his sisters and brothers get drunk and fight each other in the vague realm of Imperial politics. 6th Sister- Lìxúe Yáng, a good candidate for Empress, at least from the Yaos’ perspective- was arguing with 4th Brother, Jun Zhu, over some share of land that some farmer had let his pigs trample. Ling bit into a duck leg, not intervening, despite the fact that if he assisted her, he could probably worm his way into her good graces and secure his family some prestige along the way. It just wasn’t worth it. 

Near the door, Ling spied a small, thin girl, likely one of the heirs from a clan out West. Everyone had heard about the drought that had afflicted the region in recent times, and consequentially, no one wanted to associate with the afflicted clans. If not for the fact that the West was historically a center for alkahestry, no one would have bothered to have given them any sort of aid, let the barbarians sort their problems out themselves. For the most part, Ling agreed with the actions of his fellow Northern clansmen, but he drew the line at excluding them socially.

After all, they could still be useful as  _ distractions _ . As poor as they were, the heirs to the West still had a right to the throne. As long as Ling played his cards correctly, he could throw any assassination attempts out West instead of at him. Swinging down from the rafters into a dark corner, Ling dusted himself off, did one last sweep of the room, and went to say his farewells to his father.

When he had seen him in person for the first time at the beginning of the ceremony (when he had to greet his father and give him thanks) Ling was underwhelmed. There sat the person he had been raised to respect, if not outright  _ worship _ , but he was no more a god than Ling himself. 

He had sat at the head of the long banquet table, the primarily yellow  _ shenyi  _ making Ling’s eyes water if he stared at it for too long. His  _ putou  _ was on the verge of sliding off his head, and his slight frame made him seem almost swallowed up by the heavy garments. The pale, blemished skin around his hands and face only reinforced Ling’s thought that the Emperor was no god among men, but just a mere mortal.

Even as he made his farewells to his father, the man didn’t seem any more god-like than before. He was far more imposing  _ now  _ -one of his older siblings must have whispered who exactly he was to his father at some point- but Ling still didn’t see why this man in particular held the so-called Mandate of Heaven. 

(The bottle of poison felt heavy in his robes as Ling realized that at any moment, if he really wanted to, he could kill his father and seize the throne. It would be easy, all it would take really, was just a few drops of poison in his food.)

“Father, may I ask you a question?” Ling ventured. 

“Speak my beloved son.” That was a lie, Ling wasn’t loved more than any other of his disposable siblings, and he wouldn’t fall for the false endearment.

“Father, how did you take the throne?” He asked, hiding the tremble in his voice as his father sat up straighter in the chair he occupied. Distantly, he felt the consequence of his reckless action weigh heavily on his shoulders. The man in front of him, was no pushover. He had accomplished what Ling was  _ attempting  _ to do: Survive the blood-lust of rival clans to take the throne of Xing. Ling sucked in a breath, prepared to close his eyes and wait for the  _ shing  _ of a sword being drawn from its sheath. 

Instead, he got laughter. 

“Are all Yaos so eager for knowledge?”

“Well, we may not be scholars, but that does not mean we will not seek knowledge from those wiser when we have the opportunity my Lord.” Ling managed to get the half-lie out despite the sheer nervousness that enveloped him at the moment. Thank goodness for small mercies.

“Come closer my son. I will tell you.” Ling bowed his head deeper, and obeyed. Walking closer, he stood by his father, and waited for the man to speak. “I was of the Shan clan, on the Jin River. We are a mountainous clan, and I grew up with a sword in my hand. I went out and hunted my siblings down. Those who would submit, I let live. Those who would not-” Here, he cut himself off. “I’m sure you understand now my son.” Ling nodded, his throat dry.

“Yes, I understand very well father.” He whispered, and took his leave.

* * *

“I live to serve you my lord.” Ling first heard those words when he stared into the dark brown eyes of a girl perhaps one year his junior, as he stood in the badly lit entrance hall to her family’s compound. 

“I accept your servitude.” He said the words levelly, and watched her for a reaction. Predictably, the girl didn’t flinch, but her eyes were filled with a sort of terrible sadness that made Ling, feel unsettled. She got up from her kneeling position on the floor, and her eyes tentatively flickered over to her uncle’s still form. Nervousness, a trait that would end up getting her killed in due time if she didn’t overcome it soon. “I will be in my rooms.” He announced, and started walking. Immediately, the girl was by his side. 

He didn’t draw attention to her presence, and continued down the hall. He instantly knew which room was his, after all, one couldn’t miss the gaudy, ostentatious decor that adorned the outside frame. Ling had to stop a sneer from crossing his face as he walked towards it. Pausing for a second, he glared up at the white jade dragon that sat at the top of the frame. 

_ “I’m sure you understand my son.” After the banquet, Ling had questioned his elders about his father’s ascension to the throne. He had learned of a ruthless son of a daughter of a warlord, with all the power behind him that that lineage implied. He learned of how if a clan did not submit to the young man’s sword, the lands they controlled would be set aflame, their animals slaughtered wholesale. _

_ It was a rampage, a pillaging of Xing.  _

_ And Ling wanted no part in it. _

Ling crossed the threshold, and placed his rucksack on the floor next to the mat. “What’s your name?” He asked, turning to the girl, who’d been silent all throughout his walk. 

“I am called Lan Fan my Lord.” 

“There’s no need to call me that.” He said quietly. “There’s no need to pity me either. I don’t need your  _ pity. _ ” 

“I was not pi-”

“Please, don’t lie.” Ling smiled at her, hiding his conceit. “I am Ling Yao, son of Meizhen Yao, Lying is in my blood. Anyone else… Their lies stand out. Like blank ink on clean parchment.” Silence descended between them. “You don’t have to guard me all day.” Ling finally said. “I won’t need your protection, and its better for your family to stay away from me.”

“We are but a branch of the Yaos my Lord.” Lan Fan said, steel in her tone. “I would not abandon you.”

“Even if I must do horrible things in order to secure the future of this family?”

“I will follow you still, because you are my Lord.” 

“I told you to stop calling me that. I’m no Lord.” It was, perhaps, the most honest he had been with someone in a very long time. Lan Fan seemed to just have that effect. He couldn’t hide anything from those wide, searching eyes. “I’m just one heir of many.”

“You are a Lord to me.” She said at last. “Your presence here means that my family is not useless yet. My family line is dying. I am the only child of my generation, and my father and mother are no longer among us. You and Uncle are all I have left.” 

It was so brutally  _ honest.  _ The complete opposite of him, who lied like he breathed.

“Find a better lord. I’m sure your uncle has his connections.”

“A better lord? Do you mean a lord like Hanying Rén? The rulers of Xin Mountain, where their bodyguards drop like flies because they are often used as poison tasters, or simply tossed aside at greatest convenience? Or do you mean someone like Lady Bai of the Gou clan, where their people constantly rebel against them and are routinely slain by mercenaries because the clan does not care for their well-being? Maybe you would suggest I go serve Heir Tián, and find myself left as bait for assassins for the more poorly informed clans.” 

Her voice was scathing, and Ling couldn’t suppress a flinch. “And those are just the clans that would accept a dying branch into their clans! The rest would probably ask my uncle and I to consume brined fish to spare our old clan of shame. Would you rather have us do that instead of serve you?”

“I apologize.” Ling said after a beat of silence. “I still don’t think you and your uncle should be serving me, but if you insist on doing so, I will do right by you.” For once in his life, it wasn’t a lie. Ling turned his back on her, and started to exit the room.

“Thank you young master.” The whisper was choked with tears. Ling didn’t turn around, letting her preserve her honor.

* * *

“Do you understand the burden you are taking on?” Fu asked as he polished his jian.

“I do.” Ling said, head touching in the ground in the most formal way he could think of to show deference and respect. “I won’t fool myself by thinking that I am the savior she imagines. I know I’m not. But I hate what my ancestors have done to attain the throne. How they toss the workers and poor aside just to fuel their own interests. I hate how my own family forgot our roots and tries to pretend that we’ve always been noble.”

“And you think you can become a righteous king by throwing away all you have been taught?”

“No. I’m not throwing away my lessons in pursuit of this goal. I’m using them to my greatest ability, so that I don’t ever have to hear-” He paused. “So that brothers and sisters don’t have to kill each other in a battle for a throne.” 

“Get up young master. You shouldn’t bow your head to your servant.” Fu said after a lengthy pause. 

“...Thank you for hearing me out.” Ling mumbled, getting to his feet. 

“Your training will begin tomorrow as the sun rises. If you want to be a true king, you will first work like the lowest peasant.” Ling blinked at him dumbly for a moment before smiling. 

“Thank you, I won’t let you down. I swear.” His fingernails drew blood as he clenched his fist tighter. This was the first step (in many to be true) on his path to the throne. His first step that would begin his path to change Xing for the better.

(And yet, it was based on a lie.)

* * *

His first (but not last) meeting with May Chang comes at their father’s 50th birthday party; a day of celebration for all of Xing. 

He finds her moping in a corner, like a shorter mirror of when he had decided to climb up into the rafters rather than interact with his siblings. There’s more of them now, because  _ of course there were.  _ Granted, some of them are young, not young like Chang, who’s looks belies her age, but young as in “they still have milk names” young. 

He watched the girl for a while, mostly because he’s interested to see what the poorest clan in Xing has managed to offer to the grinder this generation, but also because he’d heard the rumors about her.

Clan elders had attempted to kill her off, so they could try to get a boy as heir, but her mother managed to pawn her off on a passing alkahestrist. When they’d first heard  _ that  _ rumor, Lan Fan had muttered something about the girl being born under a phoenix’s wings. Ling had agreed at the time, but seeing her apprehensive form now was making him reconsider.

As he watched, a boy, about Ling’s age, maybe a bit older, approached her. 

“So  _ you’re  _ the famous Chang heir.” He sneers, disdain dripping from every syllable. Ling has to stop himself from revealing himself to slap the boy. The unsubtle act was like a slap in the face of the Yao clan. 

“What business do you have with me Yingjie Han?” Ling couldn’t help himself, as a smile spread across his face. For being a Westerner, the Chang girl was good at playing the social games of the capital.

“I just wanted to know why peasant spawn like you is doing in these halls? I bet you didn’t even bring a present for our father.” The girl bristled at the insult, but didn’t lash out. “Aren’t you ashamed of yourself, Chang? Your elders were right about you, you should’ve been lef-” There was the familiar scraping sound of iron on wood, and Ling watched as the petite girl easily managed to pin a boy easily 3 times her size with only two kunai. 

He was grudgingly impressed, after all, he was best with long swords, like the dao at his hip, not with knives. Those had always been Lan Fan’s domain. 

“Are you going to insult my clan more? Or should I show you how an alkahestrist conducts herself in a duel?” The elder boy paled, and shook his head minutely. The Chang girl withdrew her kunai, shot him a disgusted look, and left, crossing into the hall where Ling had been observing.

“You shouldn’t hesitate like that.” Ling said as she walked past. “What were you going to do if he had thought for a moment and fought back? If he called others into it?” The young girl glared at him.

Such an honest stare. Ling wondered briefly how they would look when she was inevitably betrayed by someone down the line. 

“I don’t care. I don’t need your teachings  _ elder brother. _ I’m not here for father’s favor.” Her face twisted into something fierce. “I prefer to have my own honor, not heel like a dog.”

He simply stared at her. He had never heard such a... _ naive  _ accusation in his life. To be fair to her, it was slightly true to some extent. Ling  _ did  _ want his father’s favor, but it was because he had a higher goal than the throne. He wanted to change his country. 

So, if he was to be  _ un- _ fair to her… 

“If that’s what you believe, you won’t make it far in this competition. You’ll be killed off before 20, just like every Chang child before you.”

“I am not weak.” She hissed, hands twitching towards her kunai. 

“My mistake.” Ling sneered. “But then, I don’t come from a family of weak-willed traitors to the throne.” He took one step, then two away from her trembling figure. As he walked away, he didn’t hear an accusatory shout, or even the light buzz of alkahestry. 

All he heard, as he walked back to the banquet hall, was silence.

_ The most hurtful lies are the ones that have a kernel of truth to them after all. _

* * *

_ A ruler is nothing without his people.  _ That was the ideal Fu had drilled into him, day after day as he studied at the compound. An ideal he had seen violated time and time again in the history scrolls he read, not to mention his own father’s behavior. 

_ Battle of Wu Shan: 30,000 dead in total. Battle of Luoyang: 10,000 dead in total. Battle of Peixang: 50,000 dead in total. Each battle had been just another step in an ancestor’s ascension to the throne, mere pawns for their will.  _

(He _ would _ receive it later, he  _ would  _ come out of this alive. Lan Fan needed him to. Fu needed him to. His  _ country  _ needed him to. There was no option for failure.)

It was an ideal that he himself had violated at first, his belief in it shallow and weak. He had recited it much like a parrot would, with no thought behind the words themselves. He was lying, falling back on the family tradition.

“King Bradley! You will  _ never  _ be a true king!” He cried as Lan Fan dropped the flash bang. He took off for the exit, holding her injured body close to his own, trying not to jostle her and aggravate her injuries too much.

It was only thanks to his lessons in reading the Dragon’s Pulse that he didn’t get skewered. Bradley’s sword jutted out from the wall, stopping Ling short. As he glanced back, he looked into Bradley’s left eye, the one that had been covered by an eye patch just moments before.

The blood-red design on the  _ ouroboros  _ stood out like blood on white silk.

“You just said something about a ‘true king’ seconds ago, didn’t you boy?” The condescending,  _ mocking  _ tone was so familiar. 

_ I’m sure you understand now my son _ . He remembered how years after that meeting, his father would look at him, as though trying to seize him up as a rival for the throne. He remembered the visits from the clan elders, as they heard him recite the maxim over and over again: A king lives for his people. 

Ling remembered how they dismissed the idea as a  _ silly, childish thought. _

“What a naive, childish thought. There is no such thing as a ‘true king’ in this world.” Ling stared up at King Bradley, and saw his father before him. 

Yes, his father and King Bradley were truly men cut from the same, blood soaked cloth.

* * *

Ling had always thought of Amestris as a country of barbarians and monsters, what with their proximity to the western provinces and all. 

Well, he was wrong on the barbarians bit, the people were, if not more technologically advanced, at least on par with the wealthier provinces of Xing. Plus they were actually nice! 

But he wasn’t wrong on the monsters assumption,  _ not at all.  _ Case in point, he was currently  _ stuck  _ inside the head of one of those said monsters. 

_ Hey, kid, you mind shuttin’ up, I’m currently dealin’ with somethin’ here.  _ Greed announced, leading Ling to scowl. 

“All you’re ‘dealing with’ is patrol duty. There is  _ nothing  _ that is currently commanding your attention right now.”

_ Hey, hey, are you tryin’ to say that I lied just now? I’ll tell you something brat, I, Greed the Avaricious, do not lie. Not now, not ever.  _

“That seems impossible. Surely you’ve lied at some point in your life. Even if you don’t remember it.” Besides, in Ling’s experience, the lies people tended to forget were the ones they were unaware were lies in the first place. 

Without responding, Greed jumped into action, working off of an echoed shout that bounced off the pipes. A smirk cut across Greed’s face as he found the trespasser. Ling closed his eyes and the rest of his senses off from the chase.

_ Ah, I’m lying to myself again. If I don’t see it, it’s not real, if I don’t recognize it, it’s not happening.  _

_ Is this the king my people deserve? _

The thought jolted him back to awareness, and he watched as Greed cornered the intruder.

“You’re right, I am Greed. You’re really in the know, huh?” The man (chimera?) looked timidly up at Greed, tears brimming in the corners of his eyes. 

“The greediest…?” He asked quietly.

“Yep. Everything in this world is mine.” Greed replied, and the man suddenly jumped up, grabbing Greed by the lapels.

“I want money, I want women. I want land, and fame. I want everything in the world!” The rapid-fire rate of the sentences jolted Ling back to a conversation with Ed when the Amestrian had muttered about the “old Greed” having a stupid catchphrase wherein he just listed all the things he wanted.

So the chimera was a friend of Greed, from back in Dublith? 

The chimera shrank back, all steam lost. “It can’t...” He muttered. “But… No… What is this?!” He protested, shock coloring his tone.

“Who are you?” Greed questioned. 

“Mister Greed? Is that really you?! Why do you look like that?! Is that really your carbon atom transforming power?”

“Seriously, who are you?” Greed pressed. Ling could feel the irritation welling up inside the homunculus, and wanted to shout, to tell the chimera to run. 

“It’s me, Bido! From the Devil’s Nest!” The words triggered a rush of memories that threatened to bury Ling with the sheer raw emotion attached to them. “Remember, we’re friends!” Memory after memory raced through Ling, splitting his attention from the nostalgia-tinged memories and the situation in front of him.

“Right...Right, we  _ were  _ friends!” 

“Yes! Remember?” Ling felt the impact register before he fully knew what was going on. The memories came to a screeching halt, and Ling saw Greed impale Bido on the pure carbon claw.

“Sorry pal, that was probably the old Greed. I don’t know you at all.” He let the body of the chimera drop, and Ling felt frozen, as though time had come to a stop. Emotions welled up in him, betrayal, anger, sadness, shock. 

“This is a new low for you Greed.” He hissed, clawing influence over his body from the homunculus. “Betraying one of your closest friends? For a being that claims to be better than humanity, you sure love indulging in our faults.”

_ These… Aren’t my memories! _

“I thought you didn’t lie Greed.” Ling growled. “If these aren’t your memories, whose are they then?”

_ Those are the old Greed’s memories! Not mine! _

(Lie. Everything the homunculus said was a lie. Maybe they weren’t so different after all.)

“Get a grip.” Ling snapped. “You can deny that these aren’t your memories all you want, but guess what? You can’t erase the past!” Ling scoffed. “Stop lying to yourself.”

_ I do not li- _

“I’m the heir of the Yao clan. No lie gets past me. And let me tell you something Greed. If you don’t admit that you’re just lying to yourself, you’ll carry the pain of this with you forever. And you’ll die of the pain of it.”

* * *

All Ling knew was excruciating  _ pain.  _ The pressure of Father taking all the souls in Greed’s Philosopher’s Stone whipped through him, making feel nothing but unimaginable pain.

_ Get a grip kid! _

Greed’s interjection managed to pierce the veil of agony, and Ling shook himself back into awareness. As he gained more awareness though, he saw Greed being sucked into Father, and he gripped the homunculus’ soul with all his might.

“Don’t give up on me Greed! Fight!”

_ Well… Xingese Emperor ain’t nowhere near Ruler of the World… But I guess it’s better than nothing.  _ Ling barely paid attention to the content of the words, putting most of his attention into keeping Greed anchored.  _ Let’s kick his ass partner. _

Ling’s grip slackened slightly as he was stunned in disbelief.

_ Was that a li- _

And then Greed slipped out of his grasp.

_ This is where we part ways brat. I ain’t gonna let daddio take your soul.  _ Ling felt multiple emotions well up in him, but the biggest...

“So you homunculi  _ can  _ learn something from humans. I can’t believe I fell for your lie.”

_ Yeah! You fell for it you little bitch! That’s the first and only lie I’ll ever tell. Lan Fan has a Philosopher’s Stone kid, go and take it back to your country. _

Greed tore himself from Ling’s body, and Ling gained full awareness of himself for the first time in months. He watched, mind still half-dull as Lan Fan descended from the sky,  _ hudie shuangdao _ flashing in the bright sun, and she severed the connection between Father and his body.

“You got me Greed. Congrats.” He smiled tiredly, and collapsed on his knees.

* * *

May Chang made for a pitiful sight, even in the sea of pitiful people.

“Oi.” Ling called, slamming a hand down on her head. “Don’t look so glum.”

“Why shouldn’t i?!” She snapped. “My clan is-” Her voice broke, and she scrubbed at her eyes fiercely. “My clan is going to  _ die,  _ all because I didn’t get that  _ stupid stone- _ ” Ling slammed his hand down on her head again, cutting her off. “Ow! Hey!”

“Don’t say stupid shit, and I won’t hit you. Simple.” He sighed, and faced her fully. “The next emperor may be a Yao, but I won’t be leaving any clan behind.”

“You’re so greedy Ling Yao...” She muttered.

“Well, I am the man who took Greed himself in me.” Ling shot her a smirk. “I think I’m qualified to be pretty greedy. Come on, it’s time to go home to our country.” He picked her up, and settled her on his back. 

“Young master.” Lan Fan said by his side. “I-” She trailed off. “Grandfather’s body...”

“He will get an honorable funeral Lan Fan. I promise.”

“How honest of you, Ling Yao.” May muttered in his ear, starling him slightly, but not enough where Lan Fan would notice. “There was a rumor about you, in the Imperial Court.”

“What was it?” He whispered back.

“Ling Yao, the heir to the clan of Yao, masters of lies… Had one person he would never lie to. They said it was a woman who was close to the young heir, someone he was in love with.”

“Well… Every lie has a kernel of truth to it.”

* * *

“Do I make a good ruler now Lan Fan?” The young master turned around to face her fully. His eyes were bright and clear. More open than she’d seen in months really.

“You know the answer to that young master.” She said, sidestepping the question primly.

“I suppose that’s true.” She took her place by his side, in the shadows of the throne, just as May Chang was walking through the door, and her young master took his seat.

It might have been a lie back then… But now- She snuck a peak at him, and his regal stance- 

_ “You are a Lord to me.”  _

_ “I will do right by you” _

Now, the lie had become truth.

**Author's Note:**

> Lan Fan mentions that she and Fu are a branch family of the Yaos, which I decided to go with since it just makes more sense to source bodyguards from your own family, and also because it helps make the whole “50 clans and only 50 clans” thing feel a bit more feasible to me.  
> The Empire is also heavily based off of the Tang Dynasty of China, specifically it’s later years (since that means the West and South are always about -400 seconds away from trying to start shit with the capital)  
> Translations:  
> bǎobèi - Mandarin for baby/treasure, used as a term of endearment  
>   
> shenyi - Mandarin, a style of long full body garment  
>   
> hudie shuangdao - Mandarin for "butterfly sword", a short dao originally used in Southern China  
> 


End file.
